


Kill Karen Page - Part 12 - They Fell Together

by KastleInTheSky



Series: Kill Karen Page [12]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Frank admits his feelings, Frank takes the blame, Karen Page The Action Star, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, The big fight scene, These tags are way happier than this chapter actually is, a little fluff here and there, probably anticlimactic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KastleInTheSky/pseuds/KastleInTheSky
Summary: Karen, Frank, and Matt have their final encounter with Bullseye.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took kind of long! Part 13 (which will more than likely be the "finale") will be up soon!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> -KITS

At the very least, the thinnest silver lining, Karen was grateful that this was all taking place on a cool, clear, as close to perfect night as was possible for Hell's Kitchen. A gentle breeze brushed over her, refreshing against the droplets of sweat across her forehead. She could see planes blinking by out towards the river and inevitably over the ocean, perhaps. She didn't need to squint to see faint stars scattered over her; she counted thirteen in her frame of view alone. As a deflated smile blessed her lips, she stroked her hand along the cold metal of Frank's sawed-off shotgun she had rested on her chest. The remaining guns were weighing down her sacrum and pushed a thin layer of her exposed lower back into the gravel paper lining of her rooftop. She hummed softly to herself, mostly oldies. She closed her eyes again, making sure to do this frequently to keep the images from fading, keeping the rage inside her alive. She was going to need it, what she was about to do, who she was becoming. She needed hate. She needed purpose.

She opened her eyes, fixing them again at the small twinkling lights. Sometimes, she still thought about what may be waiting up there for them beyond the sky, in any way you could imagine it. What monsters, aliens, nefarious in cause or action or not, what was out there? Would any of this have happened if hell hadn't crashed down upon them on that day four years ago? Her shoulders fell, taking a sad shift into the paved rooftop. Was Kevin up there? She forced herself to consider it now. Could Kevin see what she was about to do? Would he be proud? Was he angry with her, that she’d killed her parents, and now, that she was so reckless with her own life? Would she….

She gripped the shotgun tightly, the tip of the icy barrel pressing softly into her jawline. Would she be able to meet him up there after all she had done? Was there anyway whoever was up there, whoever was in change, would he understand her plight and take mercy on her? Would they understand why she had to do all this, three different times? All the adrenaline and introspections made her eyes well up, and Karen let out a singular brief sob. It was all she could hear, the echo of her own emotion, for a while as she lay there in the otherwise still night.  
* * *  
Matt heard the cry reverberating off the bricks, off the steel water towers. Quickly he craned his head in the direction from which it came, getting closer and closer to Karen's apartment building. Matt climbed, leapt, rolled, building to building, Frank never falling far behind him. He could hear Frank's heartbeat ringing out in his head, deafeningly so; he almost lost track of Karen's from the way Frank's blared behind him.  
"She okay, Red?" Frank yelled up at him. "Can you hear her?"  
Matt concentrated. He heard Karen cry, yes, but heard no clues as to why. She was outside and alone, Matt could certainly tell.  
"She's okay, I think" Matt replied. Matt focused again on Karen. He could hear her breathing only has she stopped humming an anonymous tune. He heard her fingers tapping rhythmically on something metal, on top of her chest. It was a familiar sound.  
"Does she... does she have a gun?" Matt asked.  
"One of her own, and five of mine," Frank grunted harshly as they jumped between buildings.  
"You gave her guns?!" Matt yelled back furiously.  
"She TOOK them!" Frank answered. "Right outta my apartment..." Frank growled low.  
"Why would she need your guns?"  
"Ain't a mind reader, but usually ya' only do one thing with guns," Frank said.

Matt stopped cold, whipping around the face Frank, instinctively grabbing the collar of Frank's jacket.  
"You show up at my apartment unwelcomed for the second time, throwing yourself on my floor crying..." Frank torso tensed, his eyes wild, his jaw jutting outward. "And now you make jokes?"  
“I ain’t makin’ jokes,” Frank said sternly. “Only one thing she’s gonna need those for, so I suggest you turn around and get your ass movin’, Red.” Frank approached Matt confrontationally. Matt heard Frank’s pulse quicken with fight, yet he didn’t back away. Matt decided he would test Frank.  
“What is she doing, Frank?” he began. “You know something.”  
“I don’t know what the hell she’s doin’, but I ain’t waitin here to find out!” Frank yelled as pushed passed Matt and attempted to continue over the rooftop. Matt could confirm, as nothing in Frank changed when he answered, no sweat, irregular heartbeat. Frank wasn’t lying about that, but he had to know something.  
“Where has she been, Frank? Where did she go after the hospital?”  
Frank did not break stride, continuing, downclimbing a series of fire escapes and moving through alleys towards Karen’s apartment. Frank said nothing, but then, he began to sweat. He knew the answer to that, Matt deduced, and so he pressed on.  
“What happened to her, Frank?” 

Frank’s strides began to slow, and though he continued on, he became responsive.  
“Not my place,” he grumbled.  
“That’s bullshit, Frank,” Matt yelled forward. “You have to let me know what I’m walking into. We had a deal, remember…”  
“I know we had a goddam deal…” Frank said and he whipped himself around, stopping cold in the alleyway. “I… I know we had a deal, but… but things changed. This isn’t the same Karen… This… it ain’t Karen.”  
Matt had frustration seeping out of his ears at this point, fed up with Frank’s aversion. He asked a final time, “What happened to her?”  
* * *  
Frank coughed, clearing his throat nervously. His heart fell through the bottommost depth, his skin tingled with a deep sense of sympathy an aguish. What had they all done to the beautiful, vivacious soul of Karen Page? He knew the truth, but one wrong move, one-slip and Red would be out of here, wouldn’t back up him or Karen. He couldn’t tell him. He didn’t have the heart.  
“Father killed her brother,” he began glumly. “She… she lost it, she… she just lost it.”  
“How did this happen?” Matt hissed. “Did she go back to Vermont? Were you with her?”  
Frank was growing aggravated, and he resumed his hurried gate as they continued on.  
“Guy was out of his goddamn skull,” Frank barked. “Woulda’ killed us too if she hadn’t…” Frank’s voice trailed off, grunting loudly as he finished his sentence, shaking tension out of his neck.  
“Jesus…” Matt sighed. Yet, this revelation didn’t answer the most important question. What did Karen have planned with all of those weapons?  
* * *  
Karen lay on the rooftop for what seemed like eternities. She imagined that walking deliberately into the face of Wilson Fisk and threatening him would make the world move a lot faster than this, but she must’ve been mistaken. She’d not thought of anything but Kevin this entire time, blinking, closing her eyes as often as she could, waiting furious. Waiting, that is, until she heard it. It could very easily have come from a random pedestrian in the street, but from the way the shock of the noise revved the blood pulsing through Karen’s brain, she simply knew the sound was coming straight for her. It was a song, she could tell, but nothing her racing thoughts could let her recognize. The whistling came closer and closer, and Karen found herself springing upwards and out towards the ledge of the roof to get a look at the source, guns falling from her body save for the shotgun glued into her hands. She crab-walked like a soldier on a mission, not afraid, but conscious enough to stay inconspicuous. Before she could look over, however, her suspicions were confirmed. The bastard couldn’t help himself, she thought.

“Oh, sweetheart!” that wicked voice called from directly in front of her building. He cackled. The difference was amazing. How Karen had once been petrified of this voice was unbeknownst to her now as she rose above the railing of the rooftop and cocked her gun, firing blindly down at him.

She heard him let out small cries of surprise, her first two shots scraping the sidewalk near his feet before she intuitively fell hidden behind the ledge. Bullseye laughed up at her. Through the film in her eyes, she thought she saw him still in a prison uniform; she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to remember if he was armed.  
“Aww, what’s’a matter sweetheart?” he cackled. “Ain’t ya happy daddy’s home?”  
Karen heard the glass paneling of the building door smash as the laughter began to fade away. He was coming up for her. She fell back behind the ledge, back sliding against the concrete, cocking her gun again.  
* * *  
They were only a block away when the shots rang out. This was a feeling Frank didn’t hope to feel once let alone again – the sound of gunshots and not knowing if they were heading for someone you…. He didn’t leave himself much time to dwell on it, as he immediately darted towards the noise. Matt followed behind him, and at the sound of the shots, he instead climbed upwards, scaling another fire escape and continuing on from above.

“I’ll meet you there…” Matt began to call, but everything around Frank pulsed red and white. He could no longer hear or see anything that wasn’t a part of Karen, her hair, her voice, the image of her lifting that gun, the was she smelled, the thought of her shot dead on her rooftop. He charged around the corner until her building was in clear view. The front door has been destroyed, a gaping hole in the glass. Frank grabbed two loaded pistols from his coat, cocked them, and sprinted inside.

* * *

Karen remained crouched down waiting for Bullseye to barge through the entrace to the roof. She saw only her rage, and she was ready to fight. Still, the sight of Bullseye kicking down the door, now only yards in front of her, debilitated Karen’s legs for a moment, and she sprawled them out in front of her like a baby deer. Bullseye smirked at her in her moment of weakness.

“Aww, too late to play cute now, sweetheart,” he said. She could see now he was in fact armed, heavily, toting twin assault rifles in his hands. Karen nevertheless found herself closing her eyes, regaining herself. She stood up confidently, and as Bullseye raised his weapons to her, she raised hers right back. She stood firmly, rage in her chest, but as she was mere centimeters away from pulling the trigger, she was met with a swift pain in her trigger hand that caused her to drop the gun on the ground. She squealed in pain, and from across the roof she could hear a similar cry from Bullseye. She looked over; Bullseye’s face was bloody, and he’d lowered his weapons. Karen looked around feverishly to find two Billy Clubs rolling to a halt on the sandpaper floor.

Matt was on Bullseye before Karen got a chance to look back up, swinging his limbs wildly, trying to disorient Bullseye, who had dropped his guns and began to fight back. Karen was quick to compose herself, picking the shotgun back up and cocking it. From across the rooftop, Matt whipped towards her as the click echoed through the dense atmosphere, the collar of Bullseye’s jumpsuit still clutched in his hand’s as he turned upward.  
“Karen, don’t!” he yelled to her. Through the shadow Karen could see Matt’s head darting back and forth between herself and Bullseye, who was thrashing his arms up at Matt, desperate for a hit. Karen shot. The bullet shred through the air and landed in between the two men, chipping into the adjacent ledge of the roof.  
“KAREN!” Matt screamed, dropping Bullseye impulsively. Bullseye took the opportunity to grab one assault rifle and bash the back of it into Matt’s head, sending him flying down to the ground. 

Karen cocked her gun steadfastly, preparing for another shot, but suddenly she was forcefully shoved off balance and tumbled into the crook of the roof.  
“GET BACK!” Frank’s voice clamored. He tried picking her up as Matt and Bullseye continued to brawl on the other end of the rooftop, but Karen fought him, writing her every limb like a maniac, trying to get at Bullseye.  
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” she screamed, digging into Frank with her nails, kicking at his shins, whatever she could, but regardless of her efforts, Frank was overpowering her. He dragged Karen across the roof like that, and suddenly, without warning, he pushed the weight of his torso onto her, bending her back over the ledge of the roof, and the two of them fell together. It all happened quickly, and before Karen could register the sharp breeze blowing into her back as “falling”, she found herself landing forcefully onto Frank’s chest onto the fire escape outside of her bedroom. 

Frank only softly let a suffocated breath of air escape his lungs when he hit the cold metal, then sprang right back into action, pushing Karen over and through the broken whole in her bedroom window. Shards of glass cut her palms partially open and she crawled hands and knees on the ground trying to escape Frank. She was seething; she gritted her teeth, the stinging in her hands reminding her each time she set them down of her pain, flashes of Kevin, flashes of Wesley, and Bullseye with each inch she dragged herself.  
“I’m gonna’ kill him, Frank,” Karen growled monotonously. “I wanna kill him!” That she did. She wanted it now more than ever; if only she had gotten the chance to it on her own. She would have liked to say she didn’t blame Frank and Matt for trying to help, but she couldn’t. Their presence only made her more furious, and when Frank grabbed Karen by the ankles and began to yank hers towards him, knocking her off balance, belly scraping again the wood and the glass beneath her, a new instinct convinced her to whip herself around. She delivered a callous backhanded smack into the side of Frank’s face and she snarled at him like a rabid dog. It was as if he didn’t feel it; his eyes bore down into her intensely, the same face he would always have given her, but this time slightly different. His bottom lip was pulled over his teeth, his eyes wide, but they did not look at her angrily as she would come to expect. He grabbed both of her wrists and positioned himself on top of her, pinning her to the floor. As the sound of punches and bullets could be heard from the rooftop, Frank spoke.  
“You told me I wasn’t a monster,” he began, his voice saturated with mettle, “and that was the first time anybody’s ever told me that. My whole life, you know that?! Not just after all that shit happened, my whole goddamn life. Then you… then you came stickin’ your goddamn nose in my business, and you twisted my balls so bad the whole goddamn way that sometimes I wish I could’a gotten a lick in on you too. But you…” Frank paused, breathing heavily out of his mouth. “You were wrong the whole time, I want you to know that. I was a monster, I was always gonna be a monster. But you…”

Frank removed the pressure from Karen’s left arm, tentatively reaching his reflective arm up towards her face. There were strands of hair and pellets of sweat plundering her porcelain forehead, and Frank brushed his hand across to send them away. The white film in Karen’s eyes grew larger, more vibrant, though the exact impetus behind it was unbeknownst to Karen.  
“You were an angel,” Frank continued, with a heavy chuckle. “You were somethin’ else, Karen. Not even Maria could’a kicked me in the ass as hard as you. I was a monster until you told me I didn’t have to be. Karen… Karen, I’m, sorry. I’m SORRY. I know it’s hard knowin’ you lost people you love like that, Karen, you know I do… but Karen, you can’t do this. This ain’t you. You are much better than this Karen. You’re better than me, better than anybody in this goddamn city, you hear me?! I dun’t have to be this way, Karen… shit, I’ll do anything, anything, you hear me? You wanna, you wanna get outta here? I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go, you name it. We can… we can go live on a farm someplace, for Christ’s sake. Anything, Karen…”

Karen stared at him, not paralyzed, but utterly placid. For a moment, the dismal thoughts that plagued her for days slowed down, faded away and made room again for only Frank, made way for the fire within in her that only he could feed. She reached up to his face in return, the tips of her finger gingerly approached his rough cheek. It could’ve been everything she’d ever wanted. As they made contact, Frank closed his eyes, folding himself into her fingers. She sighed heavily. Everything.  
“Frank…” she whispered, holding back tears, “I’m sorry.” Her other hand slid down his drenched torso. “I’m sorry.”  
“We can get out of here, “ Frank affirmed. “We gotta move, but we can do it.”  
Karen smiled defeatedly up at him. Through the terror of this whole ordeal, there could never be a time she wasn’t thankful for Frank Castle. That made this all the worse.  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, until she felt it. His eyes were wide and calm, and she felt solace knowing she would get to see his wild gaze at least one more time. She closed her eyes, shoulders firm on the floor, and took a deep breath.

She wasn’t sure if she’d gotten him in the leg or the hip, but Frank rolled off of her clutching at his side, howling in pain. Karen scrambled up, shuffling backwards at she looked at Frank bleeding on her floor.  
“I’m sorry, Frank,” she said loudly. “I’m so sorry, Frank.” She began to sprint out of the room, out of the front door and up towards the roof, Frank’s gun, the sixth of the stolen, clutched in her hand. She heard blaring televisions, loud arguing in the apartments she passed. She raced up the stairs and barged through the roof door blindly, readying her gun and whirling around trying to find Matt and Bullseye. She was perhaps lucky she picked this moment to arrive; Bullseye had the upperhand, one of his assault rifles held tightly in both hands, aimed at a beaten down Matt. Karen lifted her gun and shot, this time hitting Bullseye in the shoulder. He leaned down, moaning as he registered the hit. She swung around and saw her. At his glance, Karen felt a surge of anger strike her again, and she yelled to him.  
“Hey, asshole,” she called. “Think you can finish the job?” Bullseye smirked and her, flinging the gun around and beginning to fire mechanically at her. 

Karen bolted away from the shots, ducking behind the bricked roof entrance to cock the pistol. She turned around the corner and fired it quickly at Bullseye, hitting him again in the shoulder. Bullseye howled louder this time, his voice breaking up in anguish. He began to charge toward her, Karen following suite and darting away as he began to fire at her again. Karen had nowhere to go but up and over the edge of the roof, and so that’s what she did. She thrust herself up, taking a leading step on the ledge, and tossed herself off the roof and over into an alleyway dumpster. Bullseye’s bullets followed behind her, eventually hailing dents into the side of the steel dumpster until they ran out. Karen had her hands firmly planted over her head as she heard Bullseye grunting his way over to the second gun. She sprang up, knowing she didn’t have much time. She climbed out of the trash, as Bullseye was already scaling down the fire escapes with his second rifle. Karen looked down at the one pistol she held, readying it, and fired it again. The bullet ricocheted off the fire escape and into the brick. Bullseye jumped down the rest of the way, and paced towards Karen, smirking at her, pleased with himself. He hoisted his gun up at her, and as Karen lifted hers, she knew there wasn’t a shot in hell she’d make it out of this alleyway alive. She closed her eyes one last time, steadied her shoulders, and took a deep breath in.

She heard a commotion before her before she fired, and she was almost disappointed. Karen opened her eyes to see Bullseye wrestling on the ground with a wounded Frank. The two men fought before her, equally matched, as they both had been bleeding now for a while. This was her chance, Karen thought. 

Karen took a giant step forward. They were moving, but not too quickly. She’d done it once out of fear, done it twice out of anger. Karen readied her pistol. Bullseye had never dropped his to the ground, but he would.

She cocked it again, closing her eyes. This time, she thought about Frank and that day he’d taken her out to the field. She smiled as the images played back. Steady your shoulders, she thought as she imagined him pushing up against her back, the thick leather of his jacket grazing her skin. Steady your feet. Take a deep breath in. She heard him whispering in her ear, the warmth at her neck. He whispered her name, he said “I’m sorry, Karen.” She said it again.  
“I’m sorry, Frank.”

It was louder than it had ever been, as in contrast, when the bullet left the chamber, the alley fell into harsh silence. His back was turned to her, focused on Frank. Karen opened her eyes, a little unnerved to see it didn’t register to him right away. Bullseye stood motionless, swaying a little back and forth, a gaping hole in the center of his skull. He collapsed and revealed the image of a horrified Frank, doubled over, watching Bullseye’s body fall limply to the ground. No wild eyes. Frank was blank. He looked up at her expressionless and Karen returned his glance beginning to tremble, dropping the gun onto the concrete. In the very far distance, they heard sirens.  
“Go,” Frank finally grumbled.  
Karen said nothing. She paced forwards slowly as Frank kept his place.  
“GO,” Frank yelled. Karen didn’t know where, but she began to race away from the building through the alleys until the white film in her eyes was replaced.  
* * *  
Frank had forgotten he’d been shot. At this point, this wound in his side, this shot from Karen became melded together with every other hit from every other son of a bitch in this city. He looked on at the lifeless body of Bullseye with the morbid thought that he supposed Karen did know how to shoot after all. This bastard deserved it, but, Frank shuttered. I didn't, he thought. She didn't either. It was too late to go back. He paced towards the gun she dropped, strangling it in with one hand. From above him, he heard feet landing weakly on the metal steps. Red was on his way. Frank turned down the alley, walking away.  
“Did… did you do this?” Matt growled at him harshly as he reached the bottom.  
Frank thought about telling him; guess it didn’t matter now, he thought.  
“Yeah…” Frank yelled back as he walking. “Yeah I did. Deal’s off.”  
* * *  
Brett knew this woman was no good. He and six other officers, along with a team of coroners outside with a miscreant they thought was in prison already, guys taking pictures of the rooftop of Karen Page’s building as well as all over her apartment, many of them taking statements from people in the building who’d heard someone run from Karen’s apartment up to the roof before “it sounded like a war zone up there”. He knew the three of them, the Nelson and Murdock crew, were no good, and in the lady’s defense, Brett had originally thought she was the least crazy.  
“Have we been able to find her?” he asked a junior detective.  
“Negative, Sarge,” the detective replied. “Cell phone’s not working, no family apparently.”  
“I know a couple people she’d be with,” Brett affirmed. “I’ll give them a call.”

Brett pulled out his cell phone, flipping back and forth between Matt Murdock’s contact and Foggy Nelson’s, trying to decide which one of them was less likely to bullshit him. That ended up moot. Brett put the phone back in his pocket as he took a few steps into her bedroom, where his team was taking DNA samples. He looked up at the wall at the target painted on her wall. People got into some strange shit, he thought.  
“We’ll find her,” he said mostly to himself. “We’ll find her, alright.”


End file.
